


The Apology

by Tadpole4176



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadpole4176/pseuds/Tadpole4176
Summary: March 2015The Stig drops off a set of instructions for building a car-based time machine as Jeremy sits at home debating his future. Naturally, Jeremy ropes Richard and James in to help him. He's thinking that going back to February and sorting things out seems like a good plan.As usual, there's quite a bit of difference between what they were planning, and what actually happens.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 6





	1. March 2015

**Author's Note:**

> I've not marked this as a Back to the Future fic, because I think that would be pretty disappointing if someone was looking for Back to the Future and found this, but obviously I borrowed a bit from there. :) Thanks Back to the Future - still amazing!

March 2015.

Jeremy was sat, slightly drunk, his head in his hands, staring blindly out of the window, when The Stig walked up his driveway.

It was the first time he’d seen Stig since he’d been kicked off Top Gear. For that matter, it was the first time he’d seen Stig at his house at all. It was strange.

He waited for the knock, but apparently Stig didn’t know about knocking on doors. A few minutes later, there were a series of crunches on the driveway and Jeremy watched the Stig leaving again, baffled.

Shaking his head in amusement, then regretting it as the room started to spin, Jeremy made his way unsteadily to the door

  


**

  


“Jez?” said Richard. “How’re you doing? You OK?”

“I’m great,” yelled Jeremy down the phone, causing Richard to hold the phone away from his ear.

“That’s good,” responded Richard, surprised. “Does that mean the Beeb have changed their minds about your contract?”

“No, no, they’re not changing their minds,” boomed Jeremy.

“Listen, Jez, me and James have been chatting about what we’re going…”

“… Forget that,” interrupted Jeremy. “I have a plan. Meet me at James’ garage.”

“Oh God,” said Richard.

  


**

  


“Let me get this straight,” said James, some hours later, sitting on the bonnet of a partly assembled car in his garage, covered in oil and grease, and holding a beer in his hand. “The Stig gave you plans to build a time machine and you think we should come and help you build it?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy. “Then we can go back in time and get Top Gear back.”

“By…?” asked Richard.

“Convincing me not to hit Oisin,” said Jeremy simply. “Should be easy, it was a stupid thing to do anyway, it’s not like I do that all the time.”

“Time travel isn’t possible,” said James, bluntly.

“So it won’t hurt you to try, and it’ll keep me out of trouble,” pointed out Jeremy, hopefully.

“Because you’re so great at building stuff?” sighed James.

Jeremy rose to his full height, taking the opportunity to stare down at James, and totally fail to intimidate him. “I’m magnificent at..” he paused. “No, I have no skills at all, but you guys are great at it.”

“Hmm,” said James.

“And you’ll be bored without me.”

“Good argument, Jez,” laughed Richard, glancing back at James. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look,” he added. “Off season project?”

Jeremy beamed. “I have just the car!”

  


**

  


“It’s an Alfa!” said Richard, his eyes widening as he took in the state of Jeremy’s garage – his other cars clearly moved out of the way so that they could concentrate on this project. And, apparently, so that Jeremy had space to make a spectacular mess.

“That’s a croc,” added James. “We don’t want to get stranded in the past with a broken time machine.” He muttered to himself under his breath. “Now you two have got me accepting that this is going to work! What does it matter what car we do it in, time travel is absolutely not possible.”

“It’s beautiful,” put in Jeremy. “I love this car.”

“Only because you don’t actually need to get anywhere in it,” put in Richard.

“We don’t, 88 mph hour and we’re done, we don’t need to get anywhere!” said Jeremy. “And we’ll look good doing it.”

“Jez, it’s only got two seats,” pointed out Richard. “Where are we all going to sit?”

“You’re tiny, we’ll squeeze you in,” shrugged Jeremy, unconcerned.

“Fine,” said James. “Why not? We can prove the oaf wrong, Hamster. And get one more of these ridiculous contraptions off the road.”

“Oy!” objected Jeremy. “This is a great car!”

“It’s perfect, Jez,” laughed Richard. “’Course it is.”

  


**

  


The car, unusually, still looked like a car, though James had his head stuck in the bonnet as he attempted to oil and clean various parts that he had declared to be suspect. Richard, meanwhile, was looking on in terrified bewilderment at Jeremy attempting to follow the instructions on creating a flux capacitor, something he declared that he was well suited to because he was good at electronics as it wasn’t manual labour.

Richard was quite good at car parts, but much less so electronics. As a result, he had no idea what Jeremy was doing, he was only certain that the older man didn’t look as convincingly confident as he might have liked. So far, there had been a lot of sparks, some smoke, and one small fire.

“Jez?”

“What?” Jeremy looked up from the wires he was carefully soldering together.

“Are you sure this isn’t an elaborate way to kill us?”

“Could be,” shrugged Jeremy. “It’ll be a fun ride though.”

Richard hit his head against his hand, then sagged against the wall to continue to spectate. “Right,” he said. “I’ll just be here, far enough back to avoid the flames.”

“Don’t worry, Hammond,” put in James. “There’s no way this thing is going to drive for long enough to cause any real damage.”

Beneath James’ hands, something else pinged, followed quickly by some cursing under his breath. Richard moved to help James, thinking he’d probably be a lot more useful there, but James waved him away. “Go and get some food or something, Hammond,” he instructed.

As Richard walked out of the garage, he heard Jeremy exclaim, “You put him in charge of food?”

Hmph.

  


**

  


By the time they’d all eaten, and grumbled about it, the car was looking close to finished. James couldn’t find any more parts underneath, and he was happy that everything was as clean as it was getting, and Jeremy’s bizarre electronics had been successfully installed, though neither Richard nor James had any confidence that they would do anything.

It was time to test it.

Jeremy opened the garage door with a flourish, revealing the now dark streets, then dived for the driver’s door, climbing into the seat before the others could protest.

James opened the passenger door and surveyed the mess inside critically. “Just where did you think we were going to sit?” he asked.

“Well you can sit there,” grinned Jeremy, gesturing the – mostly clear – passenger seat, “and I’m sure Hamster can squeeze in somewhere.”

“Arse,” objected James, “I know he’s titchy, but to get him into that space there you’re going to have to chop his legs off.”

“Mmmm,” nodded Jeremy, as though James had made a sensible suggestion.

“Which you can’t do,” added James.

“Oh well, maybe he can go on the roof?”

Richard chose that point to stick his head in through the door. “I’ve seen Back to the Future,” he added, “I’m definitely not sitting on the roof.”

“Boot?” suggested Jeremy, hopefully.

“NO!” protested James and Richard simultaneously.

Jeremy pouted. “He’s going to have to share with you then, James.”

Richard and James exchanged a glance, then sighed, Richard squeezing into the passenger seat first, carefully avoiding the gear lever, but otherwise pretty much sat up against Jeremy, then James climbed in, closed the door – with a struggle – then plastered himself against the door.

“Lock the doors, will you?” he suggested.

“How far do we have to travel like this,” gasped Richard between them. “I feel like I’m being slowly crushed.”

“We just have to hit 88,” declared Jeremy, confidently.

“Right,” said James, sceptically. “Well, I’d suggest that in order to avoid losing your licence along with everything else, we might need to at least reach the motorway to do that.”

“Great,” muttered Richard. “I don’t think I can hold my breath that long, so you might have to move over a bit.”

“Stop making a fuss, Hamster, if you’re talking then you’re fine,” put in Jeremy, starting the engine.

The engine, surprisingly, roared into life immediately and Jeremy pointed them towards the M4, squealing loudly as he took the turn out of the driveway.

“It’s a great car, Jez, very practical,” remarked Richard.

“It’s amazingly rubbish,” grinned Jeremy, enthusiastically, “which I think is perfect.”

“I have a very cold arse,” added James.

Jeremy and Richard giggled, helplessly.

The M4, unsurprisingly, wasn’t exactly deserted. In Richard’s head, he’d expected them to coax the car up to 88 as soon as they joined the motorway, but the traffic made that impossible. Not only was there not really space, but in the unlikely event that something invented by Stig and built by Jeremy actually worked, they would probably cause a major accident. In the end, they were approaching Wales, and Richard felt as though every last drop of breath had been squeezed out of him, and his ears were ringing with the noise of the car, when the rearview mirror was finally sufficiently empty for Jeremy to go for it.

“Right, we are a go,” declared Jeremy, as flamboyantly as ever.

“Looks good from here,” agreed James.

“Yes, please,” said Richard. “Let’s get this done.”

“You don’t like my car?” protested Jeremy.

“Not the point, let’s go!”

“Wait!” interrupted James. “Just in case this works, when are we aiming for?”

“James!” squeaked Richard. “Really? Now?”

“Yes, this is important, we have to do it properly! When, Jeremy?”

“3rd February 2015,” announced Jeremy.

“Very specific,” commented Richard.

“Very good,” said James. “Not very far back, difficult to cause problems with the space-time continuum.”

“James!” protested Richard. “There’s no way this is going to work! You’re just making me sit here squashed for longer.”

“I’m going to get us Top Gear back,” said Jeremy.

“You can’t interfere with past events,” warned James. “Or talk to yourself. Or prevent yourself from being born.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem last month,” pointed out Jeremy.

“True, but you can’t just rush in like the oaf you are, time travel is delicate,” insisted James.

“Oh yeah,” grinned Jeremy, glancing one last time in the rear view mirror, then stomping his foot down on the accelerator.

The car leapt forward, thankfully without losing anything critical to its operation, and in the outside lane of the motorway quickly climbed above 70.

80.

85.

A clanking noise sounded as something fell off the car.

83.

“Still working,” yelled Jeremy.

84.

86.

87.


	2. Year Unknown

88.

Year Unknown.

“Did we hit 88?” asked Richard, hopefully.

“Definitely,” replied Jeremy, staring at the speedo, which had risen above 90 briefly, and beginning to slow down before they attracted any attention.

“Can we go home now?”

“We have to check whether it worked, first,” pointed out James.

“How’re we going to tell?” asked Richard, looking around. “I don’t think the weather was that different in February.”

“Of course it worked!” said Jeremy.

“Yeah, cause everything we do is so reliable,” retorted Richard.

“Phones,” said James, “they should know when we are.” He went to reach into his pocket, prodding Richard several times as he did so.

“And?” said Jeremy, impatiently.

“Doesn’t look like it,” replied James. “My phone still thinks it’s March. The reception’s bad though, it’s possible it’s not seen a tower.”

“I’ll check,” said Richard, taking his revenge and prodding James several times as he fished his phone out. “Maybe my phone’s newer than James’.”

“Maybe.” Jeremy let out a loud snort.

“We should turn round either way,” suggested Richard, nudging Jeremy as he spotted an exit ramp, disrupting the final chortles of his mirth. “Get back, before the car dies on us?”

“Good point,” said James. “Not sure if my AA membership is up to date.”

Agreeably, Jeremy took the turn off, and moments later they were travelling in the opposite direction. 

“No bars,” announced Richard. “My phone’s got nothing either.”

“We’re in the sticks,” shrugged Jeremy, gesturing at the sign that welcomed them back to England. “And there’s some sort of weird person’s vintage car rally going on, look at that.”

“Oh yeah, that’s an old Cortina, good nick too,” agreed James.

“We seem to be attracting some attention too,” observed Richard.

“Pftt, this Alfa attracts attention more than any of your Porsches, I’ve been mobbed with this,” protested Jeremy.

“Right then, no worries.”

“It’s possible that three men squeezed into the front of it is a bit odd too,” put in James.

“Yeah, but who would go to a rally with an Allegro?” asked Richard, pointing at the next car in line.

“Takes all sorts,” laughed James. “Just don’t let them spot us.”

“James?” said Jeremy, more earnestly.

“What?”

“I think it might have worked.”

James looked down at his phone, almost reflexively. “Still no reception.”

“The cars going the other way are all old too,” said Jeremy.

“Oh,” said James.

“That’s not February!” exclaimed Richard.

“We might have overshot a bit,” said Jeremy, looking slightly guilty.

“We need a service station,” said James. “And a newspaper.”

**

It was a few miles before they spotted a service station, but finally they pulled in at Leigh Delamere with a sigh of relief.

“Now we can see when we are,” said James.

“I think we can safely say something’s happened,” put in Richard, waving his hands round at all of the cars in the car park.

“Yeah,” agreed Jeremy, “I think pretty much everything looks seventies. Trying to remember my exact dates.”

“Nice car!” a random voice called over to them, attached to a man who was approaching them with an impressively orange tie round his neck, and a cigarette in his mouth. “What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s an, err, Alfa,” responded Jeremy, unusually short of words.

“A prototype,” added James. “Not in the garages yet.”

“Wow,” the man nodded, stroking his hand down the side of the car’s bonnet before heading towards the lights of the services.

“Come on,” said Jeremy. “We need to know how much trouble we’re in.”

The two of them followed him across the car park, each of them continually distracted by the amazing old cars in the car park. Certainly, in the course of their jobs they’d met plenty of nice old cars, but nothing like this. Nothing that was so, well, casual. The only cars they’d see that were this old, and this nice, were always accompanied by obsessed men who couldn’t talk about anything but their old car and how much time they’d spent reviving it.

“How can they find this so ordinary?!” exclaimed Richard, grinning.

“Incredible,” agreed James, pulling him away from a stunning little mini cooper.

Finally, inside the services, they made their way to the little newsagents, laughing at the prices on everything as they went.

“Look at this, 15p for a chocolate bar!” said Richard, digging into his pocket.

“You need to know the date first,” hissed James, “some of your money could be no good, and your card won’t work.”

“Yes, where are the newspapers?” shouted Jeremy, looking round until he could spot one of the staff pointing. “Here,” he added, striding further into the shop.

“26th June 1981,” read James.

June 1981

“Really?” whispered Richard. “It actually worked?”

“Well, to a point,” said James. “He was aiming to travel 1 month, and we’ve gone about 400!”

“Power,” nodded Jeremy solemnly. “It’s a problem I have been known to have.”

“Fantastic,” said James. “And were we to travel back now, what would be the odds of us getting back to the time we were aiming for?”

“Well, more or less…. Zero?” suggested Jeremy. “But we can’t go back yet anyway, we’ve got to fix Top Gear!”

“What? You’re going to leave yourself a message for in 34 years’ time? You think your young self will pay attention to that?”

“Maybe not,” agreed Jeremy. “Yours might, how old are you in 1981?”

“18,” said James.

“11,” sighed Richard.

“James, we have to go look round. We can give your 18 year old self a message, and we can see if an 11 year old Hamster is actually big enough to see without glasses.”

“No,” said James.

“What?” said Richard. “You don’t want to look around?”

“Of course I want to look around, but everyone knows that mucking around in the past has serious consequences for the future.”

“We’re already born, James, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” objected Jeremy.

“Well, we could put ourselves off joining Top Gear at all?” suggested James. “That would cause a paradox, as we’re all here as a result of Top Gear now.”

“What does a paradox do?” asked Richard.

“Blow up the universe,” said James.

Jeremy laughed. “The universe blows up because one of us doesn’t join Top Gear? As if! You’ve been talking to too many geeks. And in what world do you think any of us would decide against joining Top Gear?”

Richard tilted his head to one side. “I suppose not getting fired from the radio could have stopped me applying.”

“Yeah, exactly,” agreed James. “Not being broke and desperate in 2002.”

“Right,” nodded Jeremy. “Try to make sure that we don’t put your younger selves off being broke and desperate in 2002, whilst talking to them in 1981.”

“You can’t just go and chat to them! And you and Andy need to be on board, can’t put you off,” added James.

“Well, we won’t even see Andy, so that’s fine… Can I talk to younger you, for instance?” he asked.

“Umm.” For the first time, James stalled, his answer no longer certain. “You can’t put my younger self off working with you.”

“But it’s only myself I can’t actually talk to?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s only because you’re following some random TV rules?”

“Well. Yes.”

“He’s just making it up!” laughed Richard. “I’ve seen Back to the Future, Doc Brown spent ages saying the universe would explode and then actually he just fainted.”

“And everything else always thought it was fine anyway,” added Jeremy. “Right. We might need to acquire some slightly less flamboyant wheels though.”

“And slightly more reliable,” added James. “Me and you are both in Yorkshire in 1981, that’s probably 200 miles from here.”

“We’ve got to go to Yorkshire?” asked Richard. “I definitely think we need another car, I think I might die on the way in that one.”

“Yeah, of course, that’d mean there was more space,” said James, “but I’m not sure I can put up with the noise even then.”

“Ha ha,” said Jeremy. “It’s a great car!”

“So what are we going to use to buy a car now?” asked Richard. “If we can’t use the bank, and most of our cash is no good, we’re basically broke.”

“A good time for joining Top Gear,” commented James, dryly. “You’re right though, I think it’s just 1p and 2p from 2015 that would be valid currency.”

“Coppers? That’s it?” Richard dug into his pocket. “I have 7p.”

“That is a good point, actually,” said Jeremy, digging into his own pocket. “I have 3p.”

“15,” said James, pulling out his wallet.

“So we can afford a chocolate bar, but definitely not a car. Do we own anything valuable we can trade, other than the Alfa that we need to get home?” asked Richard.

“I have an idea,” said Jeremy.


	3. June 1981

June 1981

“How? Just how?” Richard stared up at Jeremy, completely baffled.

“My charming personality,” grinned Jeremy.

“Really?” said James, sceptically. “By the charm of your personality, you convinced a random stranger to give you his car for 3p?”

“Not exactly,” admitted Jeremy. “It was a bit more complicated than that.”

“What exactly?” said James.

“I said he could borrow the Alfa in exchange. He’s going to be on holiday, he’s not really expecting to use it at all, he’s just got to drive a couple of miles. But he likes the idea of showing his mates the prototype car.”

“You’ve left a total stranger with a futuristic car and a time machine?” exclaimed James.

“What if he makes us stop existing?” asked Richard.

“Keep your hair on, I’m not an imbecile, I’ve disabled the time machine!” protested Jeremy.

“You’re certain?” checked James.

“Completely,” nodded Jeremy, holding out a small electronic component. “Can’t buy this in 1981.”

“Don’t lose it then!” cried Richard, looking worriedly at James.

James leant forward to inspect the component. “Maybe I can take care of that,” he suggested.

Jeremy handed it to him, entirely unconcerned. “Are we getting in then, perhaps heading for Yorkshire? Now that I’ve single-handedly solved all our problems.”

“Oh God,” said Richard, hitting his hand against his head. “At least I get a seat this time though,” he conceded, climbing into the back of the little, blue mini cooper he’d admired in the car park earlier. “Jez?” he called out of the door. “Do you even fit in this?”

“Well I wouldn’t sit behind me,” suggested Jeremy, waiting for Richard to shuffle over, before squeezing his long body into the driver’s seat.

“James?” said Jeremy. “Are you coming?”

“Just securing the component,” replied James, climbing in and immediately hitting his knee against Jeremy’s next to the gear lever. “Ow!”

“Are we ready now?” asked Jeremy. “Have we finished faffing?”

With the doors all shut, and seat belts on, the little car roared to life and Jeremy sped out of the car park without so much as a glance back at the Alfa. Richard and James, however, stared nervously at the shape of their car receding in the background, watching a strange man walk round it in wonder.

“I really hope he looks after that car,” said James, quietly.

“It’ll be fine,” said Jeremy, reaching for the radio. “Let’s see what tunes we can find on the radio in 1981.”

**

The M5 was quiet, but monotonous. Jeremy, unusually cautiously, wasn’t speeding too much in the hope of staying off the radar, aware that questioning by the police with his licence wouldn’t look good. Of course, at least he was a real person with a licence, even if his photo card looked a bit suspect and wouldn’t have existed in 1981, unlike Richard.

“I’m bored,” he announced to the others, as they approached Birmingham.

“Not for long,” said James. “I don’t think the M42’s finished yet, we’re going to have to navigate through Solihull.”

“Ah, right. James, I don’t think I’m bored enough to let you navigate. Richard?”

“What?” yawned Richard, apparently close to nodding off in the back.

“Time for you to help out, swap places with James, will you.”

“Whilst we’re moving? You are aware this is a mini?” protested Richard.

“Fine, I’ll pull over,” grumbled Jeremy, hastily pulling into an exit slip lane without paying much attention to where it led.

Thankfully, it was a quiet night, and the junction was a relatively simple one. Jeremy pulled into a layby and gave the others a moment to swap places, with James grumbling under his breath about Jeremy’s lack of faith.

“While we’re stopped,” said James. “Can we go over what exactly we’re attempting to achieve here – with your full attention? You said something about giving me a message?”

“Oh, forget you, you can be backup. I’m going to convince myself not to hit Oisin and therefore save Top Gear.”

“But you’re 30 years too early,” said James. “Is that not going to ruin the message?”

“I have a plan,” grinned Jeremy.

“Not again,” sighed Richard.

Jeremy glared at him as he climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s a good plan, I’m going to teach myself that getting punched hurts.”

“Surely you knew that?” protested Richard.

“Well, it’s only ever happened when I’ve been drunk, so I don’t remember that clearly,” explained Jeremy.

“So you’re planning to punch yourself?” asked James.

“Yes.”

“Is there a backup plan?” he added.

“Talk to younger you, you bear grudges for years, you’ll definitely remember.”

“You’re not planning to hit younger me, are you? Because I think that could actually hurt my odds of joining Top Gear.”

“No, of course not!” exclaimed Jeremy. “I was just planning on leaving a message with you. Tell your friend not to be an oaf when he’s hungry. Remind him a lot, that sort of thing.”

“That’s your plan?” said James, still looking dubious.

“Well, you said we couldn’t interfere!” Jeremy paused. “Actually, is that a phone box?”

“What? Why do you care about phone boxes?” protested Richard.

“I’m pretty sure that James will remember how to find his 18 year old self, but what if we need to find you? You’re not famous and there’s no internet,” grinned Jeremy, looking smug as though he’d just been particularly brilliant.

“Why would you need to find me? I’m eleven.”

“I don’t know, but we’re currently in Birmingham, and that’s an old phone box, which always came with a phone book. Come on, Richard.”

“But…” began Richard.

“You remember your address in Solihull?” pressed Jeremy.

“No,” sighed Richard, “I left there a couple of years later.”

“So, come help me find you in the phone book then!”

“Just go will you,” said James. “He’s not going to leave it alone, even if it’s inconceivable that there could be a circumstance where giving instructions to an eleven year old who can’t even remember his own address would be helpful.”

“Fine,” said Richard, re-emerging from the car and following Jeremy to the red phone box.

James let out a slow breath of relief, and frustration. He knew, really, that they shouldn’t be exploring here, but the possibility of fixing Top Gear was tempting. It would be great, to save their show, it really was that much fun as a job.

Usually.

Of course, none of the great times making the show took into account the days where they were obliged to traipse through the country on a fool’s errant humouring Jeremy (or sometimes Richard). He peered out of the window, just making out the two ridiculously mismatched men as they bickered quietly over the phone book. Soon, the bickering stopped, and finally Jeremy withdrew a pen and paper from his pocket and wrote something down – presumably Richard’s address – before pocketing the paper and heading back to the car. Finally!

Then, at last, they were off to Yorkshire again.

**

“Here!” announced Jeremy, abruptly pulling to a halt on a lengthy row of houses in Doncaster.

“Hmm?” said Richard, opening one eye, then closing it again.

“Where?” asked James.

“This is the street where I live,” announced Jeremy. “In 1981.”

“I don’t think we can knock on the door just now,” yawned James. “It’s 5am.”

“Go to sleep, Jez,” added Richard, still not reopening the eye.

Jeremy stared at him, then seeing no other option, began winding the seat back until it was almost lying down. Well, until James started shouting at him about it. Then, stretching his legs into the passenger foot well, to give himself a bit more room, Jeremy attempted to settle down to sleep.

Despite the noise and the light, it was several hours later when they awoke, longer before any of them were able to move without hobbling outside the car, but at 10am, Richard and James knocked on the door of younger Jeremy’s house, with Jeremy attempting to hide himself behind James.

“Good morning,” said James, smiling artificially at the girl who answered the door. “We’re looking for Jeremy, is he in?”

“Jez has gone to a festival,” said the girl, yawning. “He said he was going early to get a good view.”

“Ah, right. What festival might that be?” asked James, still beaming eerily.

“Who are you?” she asked. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m his Uncle Richard,” put in Richard, causing Jeremy to splutter behind him, and James to blink in a double take. “And this is James.”

The girl, who Jeremy suspected wasn’t entirely sober, merely smiled. “Ah, how nice! It’s the free festival in the park in Rotherham,” she said.

“Ahh… of course, we should have remembered,” smiled Richard back.

“Much obliged,” added James, waving in the hope that she would close the door before Jeremy revealed himself.

Thankfully, she did, though probably not in time to miss James’ massive sigh of relief.

“This is going to be interesting,” said James, turning to Jeremy as he stood up properly.

“Not that I wasn’t expecting at least a bit of excitement, but why particularly?” asked Richard.

“Because I’m pretty sure I’m at that festival too,” laughed James.

**

Just 40 minutes later, they pulled up on the roadside near Herringthorpe Playing Field, and all three of them once more emerged from the car. For the moment, the field had as many dog walkers as festival goers, an easy and sparse distribution of people, though work was clearly going into building a stage at one end. Supposedly, it should be an easy place to spot a 6ft 5 giant with an enormous amount of curly hair. Still, the fields were pretty big, there were a lot of places to hide a Jeremy.

“This is hopeless,” said James. “Do you really have no idea where you are?”

Jeremy did a double take, then understanding flowed across his face. “Ahh.. Good point.”

“Burger van?” asked Richard.

“Hmm, good point. Maybe we should start there,” nodded Jeremy earnestly, offering no other insights.

“You don’t remember, do you?” prodded Richard.

“Err. Nope.”

“You old man! It’s so long ago you can’t remember!” laughed Richard.

“This from the man who doesn’t remember his address!” retaliated Jeremy.

“I was eleven!”


	4. June 1981

June 1981

It was hours before they found any sign of younger Jeremy. They’d visited the burger van, and toured what felt like the entire park. They’d also visited any spots where smokers seemed to be congregating, though in this time they typically seemed to just smoke wherever they felt like it. Jeremy, despite his size, was remarkably elusive.

Older Jeremy didn’t seem to recall anything else about the event at all, despite all James’ helpful details.

In the end, it wasn’t Jeremy’s size that gave him away, it was his volume. No Jeremy, in any time, was really suited to being quiet.

“There’s Jez,” said Richard, the first to spot him as he bellowed his way through the crowd. “So now what? You want one of us to hit him unprovoked?”

“Hamster, you won’t even reach! It has to be me, anyway.”

Richard glared. “Why? I thought James said it couldn’t be you?”

“He was just quoting Back to the Future, it’ll be fine. Besides, I think James May punching him in the face the first time they meet might put him off James a bit.”

“You think?” James commented.

“Actually, it might not,” realised Jeremy, “but I’m still doing it myself.”

With that, Jeremy headed through the crowd, aiming directly for himself. Richard and James, confident that something was going to go dramatically wrong, followed. At least, James did, Richard found himself held up when someone grabbed his arm.

“’Scuse me, mate?”

“James!” exclaimed Richard, finding himself looking straight at a much younger version of his friend.

“Yeah! How’d you know my name?”

“Oh, errr, one of my friends pointed you out,” blurted Richard. “An Uncle of yours or something.”

“My Uncle?”

“Or something,” repeated Richard. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” James paused. “Do you have a light?”

Richard sagged with relief, though honestly, aiding such a young James in smoking, was giving him a serious sense of guilt. What if he’d not been able to find a light at the festival before? But then half the crowd were smoking, so that was just a little ridiculous. Once James had lit up, however, he didn’t seem in a hurry to move away.

“It’s a great band,” he said.

“Hmmm,” muttered Richard non-commitally, he’d never been a fan of James or Jeremy’s taste in music and this was all proper seventies stuff.

He was saved from forming any kind of lie or argument, or even worrying about how starting to argue with young James might affect anything, by a roar of noise from the crowd in the direction his James and Jeremy had headed.

“What’s that?” asked James.

“Almost certainly an Uncle causing trouble, I should go help,” said Richard, edging away.

James looked down at Richard dubiously. “I’ll come too,” he said.

Richard’s heart sank, but short of running in the opposite direction, there wasn’t much he could do. Even that might not deter James at this point.

“Let’s go,” he responded instead, hoping James didn’t pick up on the exasperation he was trying to hide.

“Hamster!” Jeremy, looking very dishevelled, possibly bruised, chose that moment to emerge from the crowd, older James close on his heels. He grabbed Richard by the arm and propelled him backwards, almost dragging him directly through younger James. “Got to get out of here!”

“What?” asked younger James, jumping sideways slightly to avoid Richard.

“Uncles,” said Richard, “it’s really best not to ask!”

“You!” a bellow sounded behind them, coming from an enormously tall young man with blood running from his nose.

Richard squeaked slightly at the sight, trying to gain his feet instead of being dragged backwards.

“Are you OK?” asked young James, looking worried.

“They won’t be soon!” cried young Jeremy.

“Wait, what’s going on?” James grabbed Jeremy’s arm. “Are you OK? Your nose?”

As James held up Jeremy, their older selves disappeared into the crowd, lost.

“That guy just hit me!” exclaimed Jeremy, still angry. “For no reason. And it hurt!”

“The little guy?” asked James.

“No, the tall one, right in the face. He said it was so that I understood what it was like.”

“Did he happen to know your name without ever meeting you? Say anything about Uncles?” asked James, curiously.

Jeremy paused, the rage draining out at the sound of James’ coincidence. “Yes. How?”

“There’s something going on,” said James. “I need to know what. You in?”

Jeremy ran his hand to swipe under his nose, brushing the blood away, then nodded. “Yeah. I have a clue they dropped too.”

He held out a small piece of paper.

  


**

  


“We’ve lost him, you can let go of me now!” cried Richard, still struggling to keep his feet going backwards and unable to stop Jeremy or loosen his vice like grip. “I think young James saved us.”

“Me? You saw me? How did he stop Jeremy?” James was full of questions.

“Well he asked me for a light, what was I supposed to do, ignore him?”

“How does asking you for a light lead to him stopping Jeremy? What if he hits me and they fall out?” protested James.

“Like I said, not really anything I could do. You two lunatics burst through the crowd and grabbed me while I was talking to him, he was bound to be a bit curious.”

“Ah,” said James, apparently out of accusations for the moment. “Well I suppose we’ve not started fading out of existence or anything, so that’s good.”

“That went brilliantly,” declared Jeremy. “He was so surprised.”

“You don’t say!” laughed Richard.

“Did it put him off randomly accosting people though?” asked James.

“Maybe.” Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Don’t think it works like that, Jez, said James.

“Why not? It could!”

“Come on. Let’s go home,” sighed James, “you’ve done what you wanted to do.”

With those words, all the excitement drained out of Jeremy, and with it the adrenaline and panic running through Richard and James. In the midst of the crowds of happy, dancing people, all the fun of the trip had drained out of them and suddenly all they wanted was to be away, somewhere quiet with a beer and some good telly, or a car to argue about.

  


**

  


“We need a proper night’s sleep,” announced Jeremy as they reached the mini and he fished in his pocket for the keys. “We need to regroup, check there’s nothing else we need to do, then head back and fetch the Alfa.”

“With what, exactly?” asked James. “We decided before, we’re not exactly loaded here.”

“I refuse to spend another night in that car,” insisted Jeremy. “Turn your pockets out, what valuables does everyone have?”

On top of the little car, a small pile of semi valuables appeared. Reading glasses. Watches. Rings. Not much, really.

“Hmm,” said Jeremy. “Maybe we can do a trade instead.”

“Like get a 1 day paper round?” asked Richard.

“I’ll write up the festival and sell the story to a local magazine,” suggested Jeremy.

Richard held his hand out for the keys. “Before we get too drastic, maybe there’s some money in the car?” He began rooting around in the glove box and under the seats. “How much do we need?”

“£20 should do it,” said James. “It’s 1981.”

“There’s quite a bit of change – 50 pences, some tens. Ohhh, and a fiver.”

“Grab it, probably close enough,” said James. “I’ve got a few dollars, they might still be valid in 1981 if we can find someone planning on travelling to the US.”

Jeremy snorted. “Not as much air travel in the eighties,” he pointed out, collecting the money nonetheless.

In the end, a particularly lovely pub landlady let them stay, in exchange for the money they’d managed to cobble together. They had to share a room, but that wasn’t so bad, and it even had an ancient black and white TV. It wasn’t that late, so James switched the TV on, and sat on the end of one of the beds, reminiscing about the wonders of Last of the Summer Wine, Blake’s 7 and then Yes, Minister. Jeremy and Richard, initially disinterested, slowly joined him, having fun mocking the crazy wobbly sets in Blake’s 7, and how accurate Yes, Minister still seemed. It was a nice way to spend the evening. Not as spectacular or bizarre as some of their trips, but different and pleasant.

Finally, the previous night and the day’s exertion caught up with them, and they settled down to sleep. James and Jeremy taking the beds, while Richard collapsed on a fold out sofa. 

  


**

  


Jeremy was the first awake in the morning. Ordinarily, he might have sat in bed playing with his phone, but with no charger and no reception, that was currently just a block of dead electronics. He couldn’t see any books either, so instead he sat on the bottom of his bed, and turned the little TV on again quietly, sitting through whatever kids programs were on at that time in the morning, he wasn’t really paying attention.

“That’s Wacky Races,” said Richard, rolling out of bed and coming to join him on the end of his bed. “I remember that.”

“Yeah,” grinned Jeremy, “makes sense.” He turned to his friend, looking him in the eye. “I’ve seen something I’ll bet you don’t remember though.”

“What?” asked Richard.

“I can’t get the news to repeat here, we’re going to have to go and find a newspaper, get dressed.”

“Now?”

Jeremy nodded. “Right now.”

“OK, give me a minute,” Richard got up and left the room, presumably headed for the bathroom.

James was still fast asleep when Richard returned, so Jeremy turned off Wacky Races, and headed out of the door with Richard, heading down the stairs and into the pub, watching Richard sniffing at the air.

“You can have breakfast when we get James up, it’s on for hours yet, it’s only 7am,” pointed out Jeremy.

“That’s such a good smell,” said Richard, sniffing the air one more time before following Jeremy out of the door and onto the street.

It didn’t take too long to track down a newsagents, newspapers spread out in a rack at the front of the shop, each of them a matter of a few pence. Granted, they had to pay in coppers, but Jeremy quickly grabbed one of the broadsheets, paid, then headed back to where Richard was staring at the newsagent’s penny sweet jars.

“You are having such a nostalgia trip,” laughed Jeremy, nudging Richard towards the door.

“Yeah, it’s funny looking at this stuff as an adult, I remember it all being so exciting.”

Jeremy grinned, but didn’t respond, leading Richard instead to a nearby wall and taking a seat.

“Look,” he said.

There, in black and white, was a picture of Richard. Aged 11.

“That’s me,” said Richard.

“I know,” nodded Jeremy. “Why do you think I wanted a paper, you were all over the news this morning.”

“You know, normally when we’re on the news, it’s a story about how one of us – usually you – has done something stupid.”

“I think this might be too,” said Jeremy. “It’s just the papers don’t know it yet.”

“It says I’m missing,” observed Richard. “That sounds like the sort of thing I would remember.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe memories take time to catch up with you, I don’t remember older me hitting me either, yet.”

“So this isn’t something that happened until we showed up?”

“I think so,” agreed Jeremy.

“I could die!”

“I don’t think so,” grinned Jeremy. “I think it’s more likely that you’ve been kidnapped by me.”

“Ahh… hence the doing something stupid,” Richard paused. “Why would you kidnap me? And how does that mean I won’t die? You’re always trying to kill me – with weird food and broken cars, and I wasn’t as good as dodging when I was 11!”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, I really need to try harder,” he agreed.

  


  



	5. June 1981

June 1981.

“James! James! Wake up!” Richard ran into the room, and to James’ bed, not even hesitating to shake the man awake.

“Mmm?” James waved his hand in Richard’s direction and attempted to swat him away.

“We need to go for breakfast! We’ve got to get going!” cried Richard, impatiently.

“What’s the rush?” groaned James, just in time for Jeremy to enter the room.

“Hamster’s worried I’m going to squash him,” said Jeremy.

“I’ll squash him if he doesn’t let me sleep,” grumbled James.

“Not me, me!” said Richard, helpfully.

“Little you?” James frowned. “Littler you?”

“Yes!”

“With the ape?”

“The younger version, yes,” agreed Richard. “The one with the sore nose.”

“We really need new names for them,” put in Jeremy. “This is irritatingly confusing.” He paused for a minute. “I’m going to call mini Hamster – Mouse.” He turned to James, “Then younger you can be… Corporal Slow, and clearly I’ll be Rudolph.”

Richard frowned. “Rudolph?”

“Well I’m assuming his nose has swelled up a bit and gone red since yesterday.”

“Of course, he’s probably freaking me out as we speak.”

“You two go and get breakfast, I’ll be down in a minute,” interrupted James, before they could get any further. 

**

“So,” began Jeremy, over a large rasher of bacon. “Do we need to do anything about Rudolph and Mouse?”

“Interesting combination,” giggled Richard. “Aren’t reindeer scared of mice?”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him very significantly.

“Fine,” sighed Richard. “Mini me isn’t even potentially scary.”

“I think we do need to intervene though, don’t you?” put in James, before they could get too far off course. “Realistically, it’s important to us that Richard isn’t afraid of Jeremy, and that Jeremy isn’t arrested or otherwise in trouble before he even joins the BBC.”

“You’re envisaging ending up doing Top Gear on your own!” commented Jeremy.

“I think we all know that wouldn’t happen,” smiled James. “Not at the start, and not after however many years it’s been. It needs to be all three of us.”

“There needs to be a plan then,” said Jeremy, decisively. “Any ideas where they might end up?”

“You’re asking us. Rudolph’s you, remember?” pointed out Richard.

“That’s true, I don’t know the area though,” observed Jeremy.

“I think,” said James, “that first we need to be travelling towards the source of the problem.”

“Right, things to do,” said Richard, quickly popping one more sausage into his mouth as he stood up. “Places to be.”

“Jez?” asked James.

“I’m coming,” responded Jeremy, distractedly, frowning. “Just why would I steal a miniature Richard Hammond though?”

“At this point,” said James, “I’m thinking it’s purely to piss me off.”

**

“You know,” said Jeremy, sometime later, from the passenger seat of the mini, looking over at James, who was driving. “Maybe I’m doing it to piss me off.”

James, who hadn’t been thinking about the comment since he made it, and was concentrating on getting past a particularly annoying middle lane hogging Allegro, took a minute or two to catch up with what he was on about.

“You know, that does sound like something you would do,” observed James.

“It does,” agreed Richard, from the back, chuckling slightly to himself.

“I am such a knob,” said Jeremy, with a sigh.

“You did punch the man,” pointed out James.

“Yeah, and he didn’t know it was all for his own good,” added Richard.

Jeremy frowned. “February would really have been a lot better. And I hurt my hand on his face!”

“There, there,” said Richard, patting him on the shoulder. “You know, this is not really helping with where he might go though.

“I think I’m trying to get revenge. I mean he’s trying to get revenge. I think he’s trying to get me to find him,” announced Jeremy, pretty much ignoring Richard.

“But you don’t know Solihull, how would you find him?” asked Richard.

“I think he assumes I know The Mouse.”

“Before he set off, he won’t have known that Mouse was a child,” pointed out James. “Unless you wrote that on the paper?”

“I might have done,” said Jeremy.

“Why man? Why would you do that?!” screeched James, swerving slightly as he glared at Jeremy.

“Eyes on the road!” yelled Richard. “Don’t kill us on the way to rescue me, huge mess!”

“Because it was funny,” muttered Jeremy.

“You ape!” exclaimed James. “He’s a minor.”

“Tell me you didn’t think the prospect of something smaller than Hamster was funny,” demanded Jeremy.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t write it down with his address!”

“Hey, there are loads of kids smaller than me,” protested Richard. “I’m 11, not 2.”

“Nope,” said Jeremy. “It’s still funny.”

“Aside from the part where your stupidity put him in danger,” added James.

“OK, apart from that part..” nodded Jeremy, attempting to look ashamed.

“And yet,” sighed Richard. “Where would you go?”

“You’re missing the point, Hamster. I’m not trying to scare Mouse, or anything like that, I’m trying to annoy, well, me. I’ll want Mouse to be happy enough, just hard to find.”

“So, theme park?” asked Richard, trying to imagine what the conclusion could possibly be.

“Too public,” said James. “He’d have been found already.”

“School,” said Jeremy. “It’s the weekend.”

“Seriously, you think he’s taken me to school?” grumbled Richard. “I thought at least I’d get some fun out of this. A giant imbecile has taken me to school as bait for an elderly, giant imbecile, and has plans to mock me extensively, at school! At the weekend!”

“So we have a destination, then?” asked James, butting in before Richard or Jeremy could get any more wound up. “Either of you two fancy helping me navigate to it?”

“James,” said Jeremy. “We’re on the motorway, how lost are you going to get?”

“Later, Clarkson,” replied James, glaring at him again.

**

“How long do we need to stay here?” asked Richard, looking up at the gigantic stranger. The man had so far frightened the life out of him, asked him a lot of questions about uncles that made no sense at all, and then insisted he needed to take him to school for a sleepover. Now, he was pretty sure the guy was wrong, but much less concerned that he was in danger – other than from his own Dad. Still, the giant – Jez - didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, and whilst Richard didn’t like to worry too much about getting in trouble, he was pretty sure this was going to end up being catastrophically huge trouble, and he would have preferred it was trouble of his own choosing.

“We’re just waiting for someone, then we’ll go,” giant Jez responded.

Of course, agreeing to go with him had been hours ago.

Then there was his slightly odd friend, who made jokes Richard didn’t really understand, and kept reminding Jez that he was going to get into trouble. It was possible he was just Jez’s conscience, but Richard was pretty sure he was real, for a start he was called James.

“James?” asked Richard. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“About as long as it takes this imbecile to come to his senses, and with any luck solve a mystery,” replied James. “Don’t worry though, we’ll get you home.”

“I can walk home myself, you know,” announced Richard. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Best not,” smiled James. “It’d be our fault if something went wrong.”

“Really?” replied Richard, grinning evilly.

“Oh, come off it, James. It’s not our fault if he gets himself run over!” protested Jez.

“It is,” insisted James.

Richard could see they were getting wound up for a really good argument, and not that he didn’t enjoy a good argument – these two seemed particularly funny when they were arguing – but he had stuff to do at home. His Dad had promised they could do some work on his bike today. So, while they were distracted, he left the room.

As silently as he could, Richard closed the door behind him, then sprinted down the corridor and out of the fire door that they’d entered through the day before. The staff room had made for an interesting night, and a bit of an adventure, but now it was time to go. He headed through the staff car park and reached the gate, opening the unlocked pedestrian gate, and diving through it with just one glance behind him to check for Jez or James.

He turned back, moving before he looked and smacking his head directly on someone’s protruding stomach.

“Ooof.”

“Aha!” said an oddly familiar voice, grabbing his arm to steady him. “I wasn’t really expecting that.”

“Me neither,” came another, quieter voice. “That was unexpectedly accurate.”

“Eerily,” added a third voice.

Richard wriggled, keen to get going before Jez or James caught up with him. “Soz, I’m just heading home.”

“Ahhh, I don’t think you normally walk home,” said the smallest of the three men, moving into his path.

Richard looked up at the three of them. “You’re… he began, not sure how to explain what he was seeing. But…” Somehow, the questions about uncles were starting to make more sense.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” grumbled the tallest man, abruptly grabbing Richard and swinging him into the air to land on his arm as though he was a preschooler. “Come on, Mouse, let’s go find Rudolph.”

“I’m walking home!” insisted Richard, pushing against the tall man determinedly.

“You’re really not.” The shorter man was now perfectly eye to eye with him, looking straight at him and raising his eyebrow, somehow demonstrating that he knew exactly how likely Richard walking home by himself was, and how far it was. “But I promise, we won’t be long, we just need to find Jeremy.” He paused. “Actually, why do we need to find Jeremy? I thought we needed to find Richard and make sure he was OK? Couldn’t we just go?”

“We need to make sure this doesn’t happen again,” added the other man.

“Ah, good point. Richard, can you hang on just a little bit longer?”

Richard sighed, annoyed, but reasonably convinced that he didn’t need to worry. “Fine, I’ll show you where they are.”

All three of them paused. “They?”


	6. June 1981

June 1981.

Hamster couldn’t believe he was walking through these halls again, it had been so long since he’d even thought about this place. He suppressed a shiver. It was kind of creepy.

“Not sure I’d fancy visiting my old school, either,” whispered James, grinning. “Not my favourite memories.”

“No,” agreed Richard, looking ahead as his younger self practically sprinted back down the hallway and into the staff room. “Though I don’t think I ever visited the staff room. Maybe the headmaster’s office.”

“Come on,” said James. “Let’s go see what trouble the oaf’s got us into this time.”

By the time they pushed their way through the double doors of the staff room, and into the main room, finding themselves surrounded by semi-comfortable orange chairs and a strong smell of coffee, Jeremy and Rudolph were already eyeing each other up as though they were going to go for round two, with poor, tiny, Mouse stood beside them, completely dwarfed but still yelling at them for being stupid. The surprise, however, was in the form of Corporal Slow.

“Why am I here?” whispered James.

“Very existential,” muttered Richard. “I guess you wondered what was going on last night?”

“I really am quite nosey,” said James. “Good job though, I’ll remember that.”

“Do you think you can sort them out, or does it need to be you you?” Richard frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“I think we should light the red touch paper and stand well back,” said James, turning to the two Jeremys.

“…Yes, because it’s perfectly normal for a total stranger to walk up to me and punch me in the face,” said Rudolph, gesturing at his still slightly swollen, red nose.

“But it is! If it needs to be done! You’ll remember that!” emphasised The Orangutan.

“Of course I’ll remember that, particularly the right knuckles. I’ll obviously take the opportunity to retaliate next time I see you, too.”

Jeremy shrugged. “That’s fine, as long as it’s me and no one else. Because now you know it hurts.”

“Of course it hurts! How did you think I wouldn’t already know that!” protested Rudolph. “Everyone knows it hurts!”

“You think maybe I forgot?” the wind seeped out of Jeremy’s sails.

“Maybe I should hit you now then, old man?” It was hard to decide if Rudolph meant it or not, he half sounded as though he was joking, but his stance didn’t.

Mouse, clearly thinking that he should prevent a fight, though the idea was laughable, stepped between them, shoving them both as hard as he could to separate them – completely unsuccessfully, until Corporal Slow, grabbing Mouse and shoving him out of the way, took his place.

“I think we’ve had enough of this, don’t you? Can we not accept that hitting people leads to bad things, and there should be no more hitting,” he suggested.

“Eloquent,” Hamster whispered to Captain Slow.

“I have my moments,” grinned his friend, looking very pleased with himself. “And I was more successful than you,” he added.

“Yes, alright, the David and Goliath thing isn’t working for me,” Richard shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled a face. “I get better at it with age and practice.”

“Be my guest,” smirked James, gesturing at the stand off.

“I think you’ve got it in hand for now.” They turned back to listen to the others, Richard noting that Rudolph looked much less like hitting The Orangutan now.

“I think you should kiss and make up,” said Corporal Slow, smirking in a very familiar, James-like way, then turning to beam at Mouse, who was giggling at his side. “And then we should all go home.” He turned round to look at all the faces around them, a flicker of recognition and amusement flashing across his face.

Rudolph paused for a moment, then nodded, pointing at The Orangutan and adding. “Til next time.”

“Of course,” nodded The Orangutan, bending down to grab Mouse’s hand. “We can take you home now,” he said.

**

In the end, they dropped Mouse off a couple of streets from his house, keen to avoid getting entangled in a police investigation, or alerting the media. The little boy seemed curious, but clear that Rudolph and Corporal Slow had to remain anonymous, even if he needed to tell the police about their older counterparts, and that he couldn’t mention being at school. James thought he was remarkably agreeable really, for someone who was actually Richard. He even felt slightly sorry to see Mouse go, he made an interesting insight into Hammond himself.

Not that he could tell Jeremy that.

Or Richard.

“So, that’s that dealt with,” said James. “We should get out of here before anyone asks any questions.”

“We should,” agreed Jeremy. “He’s going to have to give us up pretty quickly.”

“But you’re sure he won’t tell the police about Rudolph or Corporal Slow?” asked Richard, leaning forward from the back seat.

“Oh yes,” grinned Jeremy. “I told him if he told the police about them he’d never see them again.”

“Clarkson! You’re not supposed to say things like that!” objected James. “And why would he want to see them again?”

“Richard’s always enjoyed my company,” said Jeremy.

Richard coughed. “Not in THAT way,” he put in.

“Well no, but we got on brilliantly as soon as we met,” beamed Jeremy.

“Yes, but you didn’t kidnap him the first time you met, you imbecile. I imagine that might have an effect on how he feels about you.”

“Why should it? He wasn’t scared,” pointed out Jeremy.

“But…”

“And Richard’s a thrill seeker, getting kidnapped – without being scared – is exciting.”

James turned round to look at Richard. “Really?”

Richard shrugged helplessly. “Err, he might be right,” he conceded. “I don’t remember him kidnapping me yet, so I’ve no idea if I was scared, but…”

“God help us,” said James. “You two are ridiculous. Come on then, Clarkson, let’s get us back to our car before he has to admit he remembers what we look like.”

**

The ride back to Chippenham was done as quickly as humanly possible, with Jeremy breaking the speed limit whenever he thought he could get away with it. It probably wasn’t the wisest of moves, potentially attracting police attention, but Jeremy couldn’t shake the feeling of something chasing them. It was as though the police were actually running them down on the motorway – not uncertain where they were going, or lying in wait, but genuinely chasing them all the way from Solihull.

Jeremy didn’t like the feeling at all. Now, finally, he was with James and he just wanted to get away from this place. Not that James sympathised with the speed. After 30 minutes or so, James had suggested that Richard must be tired of sitting in the back, and got Jeremy to pull over so that they could switch places. James didn’t really fit in the back of the mini cooper, but he wasn’t complaining so Jeremy chose not to worry.

Finally, mid-afternoon, they made it to Chippenham, to the address they’d been given by the mini cooper owner. There, gleaming on the driveway, was the Alfa – unharmed and waiting for them and, Jeremy had to admit, that last little smidgen of anxiety had drifted away.

As he clambered out of the car, the mini’s owner came to greet them.

“How’s she been?” asked Jeremy.

“Beautiful,” the man replied, beaming all over his face in a good impression of sheer bliss. “One day, I’m going to own a car like this.”

“Most importantly,” muttered James to Richard, standing away from Jeremy’s love-fest over the Alfa, searching in his pocket for the critical component. “He’s not accidentally time travelled.”

“Oh yeah,” grinned Richard. “That could have been problematic.”

“Yeah, especially if the targeting’s as dodgy as it seems to be,” nodded James, still rummaging in his pocket. “Where is that stupid… oh.”

“What, oh?” asked Richard, concerned.

“There’s a hole in my pocket,” said James.

“James, we’re going to end up locked up, we told my mini me he could give us up!”

“I know, I’m looking! The important thing is, not to panic.”

Jeremy chose this moment to turn back to them. “Come on then, time to get home.”

“I don’t think I can search my pockets with you practically sitting on my knee,” commented James dryly. “You go stall the ape, get him to check his baby’s OK.”

Richard swallowed, then headed over to the Alfa with Jeremy, giving the strange man Jeremy had mysteriously trusted with his beloved car, a little wave as he did so.

“Thanks, Tiff,” boomed Jeremy as he opened the car door and settled into the car, watching Richard as he made his way round the other side.

“What’s James doing now?” he asked Richard. “Does he not understand the urgency of the situation?”

“He’s, err, being James. You know how he needs to check stuff. We’ve got a few minutes now, it’ll be fine,” blagged Richard, noting that Jeremy was paying very little attention to him as he caressed his car, probably apologising to it for leaving.

“Got it,” interrupted James, brandishing the essential component, and whispering, “In the coat lining,” to Richard.

“Excellent, let’s get going then, before our past catches up with us,” declared Jeremy, turning the ignition key.

For a moment the car threatened not to start, but then the engine roared to life, and the car moved off the driveway.

“Phew,” said Richard quietly. “That all felt like a lot more excitement than I was expecting to find in 1981.”

James laughed. “Yeah, it doesn’t sound that interesting as a year, does it.” As Jeremy drove, James reached back into the electronics, sliding the component back into its socket. “There,” he announced, triumphantly.

“Not far to the motorway,” put in Jeremy.

“Thank god,” muttered James. “Hamster’s getting heavy.”

“I’m not even sitting on you!” protested Richard.

“We are on our way home!” announced Jeremy, interrupting before they could get too wound up, already gunning the engine and overtaking a lorry in the first lane. “Oh yes!”

“It’s pretty quiet here already,” commented Richard. “I suppose that is how we ended up here in the first place,” he acknowledged.

“Going for it,” bellowed Jeremy. “80..”

“85.”

“Rozzers!” yelled James.

“Home or bust,” cried Jeremy. “87.”

“88.”


	7. June 1981

June 1981.

“89.”

“Oh.”

“Sirens are on,” yelled James.

“Crap,” said Jeremy. “We can still outrun them though!” He pushed his foot down harder, leaping away from their pursuers.

James turned, watching the police car disappear behind them, the blue lights quickly shrinking. “They won’t like that,” he said.

“No, it’s a distinctive car too,” added Richard. “We’re going to have to lie pretty low.”

“Here,” said Jeremy, “we need to get off the motorway and fix this, before they can call for backup.”

They dived off the road, finding themselves on a deserted section of A road, and heading off into the countryside, selecting smaller country roads at random for half an hour or so, in an effort to make themselves as hard to find as possible.

“This’ll do, Jez,” said James. “There’s space to pull over and take a look at the time circuits.”

“OK. Hamster, there’s a torch in the glove box. James, take a look at that component, see if you can see anything wrong. Is it dirty? Loose connection? Just see what you can see.” Jeremy took charge, reaching to open the driver’s door and go rummaging about in the boot.

“Can you see anything, James?” asked Richard, scrambling into the driver’s seat so that he could shine the torch without getting in James’ way.

“No yet. I’m not exactly an expert on this stuff, but it’s not so different from car parts really, you just need to be methodical and check everything.”

Richard sighed, trying not to get impatient. The authorities were definitely after them, the time machine was broken, and he had to sit through James doing checklists in his head to fix it. Maybe he should go and see what Jez was up to. “James?”

“Richard,” said James. “I really am a bit busy here.”

“Sorry.” Richard turned his attention back to the torch.

“Just wedge the torch in the headrest, then go help Jez,” suggested James more gently.

Richard clambered out of the car, and round to the rear of the car, relieved to stretch his legs and, quite frankly, take a breath of fresh air to calm himself down. He could feel his nerves buzzing inside him, screaming at him that he was stuck in 1981. That was going to get caught by the police and they were going to think he was an illegal immigrant or something. That they were going to think he was a kidnapper!

Deep breath, he told himself again.

“There,” said Jeremy, looking very pleased with himself.

“What is it?” Richard peered at the small package in Jeremy’s hand uncertainly.

“Well, as you know, I never go on a trip unprepared,” began Jeremy, raising his eyebrows in response to Richard’s immediate sceptical look.

“Right,” said Richard.

“So, I thought, electronics that I mostly put together might not be all that reliable, and I brought a portable soldering kit.”

“Doesn’t need power or anything?” asked Richard, impressed.

“Nope, it’s gas powered – it’s like a tiny welding torch!” Jeremy removed it from the case and fired it up, the tiny blue flame lighting up his features eerily.

“Don’t use all the power!”

“It’s fine, Hamster,” grinned Jeremy. “It’s good for hours! Why are you so worried?”

“I…” Richard shrugged. “I don’t know, I feel a bit like I’m not real – you and James seem like yourselves – more or less – but I don’t. I don’t want to get stuck here.”

“Or arrested,” added Jeremy.

“Yeah, that never seems like such a risk when we’re at home.” And it’s hard not to worry about going to prison, added Richard silently.

“Oddly, we don’t do a lot of kidnapping at home,” pointed out Jeremy.

“Yeah, what made you start now? With me!”

“Apparently, I did. I did tell you I needed to learn about getting hit in the face,” said Jeremy.

Richard looked up at him sceptically, well aware that Jeremy hadn’t known what was going to happen. “I’m pretty sure we told you that wasn’t a great plan,” added Richard, because that really needed saying.

“Probably,” shrugged Jeremy. “But you always say that, how am I supposed to know when you mean it! Come on, let’s see if Slow has methodically spotted the problem.”

**

James had.

As Jeremy opened the door, he turned to excitedly gesture about a dry solder joint, and quickly the blue flame was going and Jeremy was carefully soldering the leg of the socket back on.

“I am the king of electronics,” shouted Jeremy, waving his little soldering iron flame around jubilantly. “Want to confirm it, James?” he asked.

“Yes,” said James. “You two clear out of my way, and I’ll do some pre-flight checks.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened at the words pre-flight checks, and he backed away from the car quickly. “Ordinarily,” he told Richard, “I’d suggest this would be a good time for a trip to the pub while we wait for him.”

“Yeah, that might not be the best plan just now,” nodded Richard. “So, what? We’re just going to hang around and wait for him?”

“I’d rather kill myself,” declared Jeremy.

**

James, satisfied that the solder joints were all good, and nothing else had come loose, was attempting to calculate the exact date to aim for, with the car’s wonky targeting, in order to arrive back in March 2015. Well aware that otherwise that could spend significant time bouncing around time, and likely causing all sorts of trouble.

Thinking of trouble, he looked up to see that Jeremy and Richard had disappeared completely - it had been very quiet. He decided not to worry about it.

They could take care of themselves – hopefully.

**

Jeremy and Richard wandered down the country lane, wondering if they were still anywhere near the motorway to get a look for any police who might still be looking for them. Jeremy had to admit, he couldn’t remember at all which way he’d turned during their escape, but he was certain they needed to be cautious going back – they couldn’t afford to get trapped without enough space to get up to speed.

“I don’t suppose there are any abandoned air fields near here, are there?” asked Jeremy.

“That would be really useful just now,” agreed Richard. “Don’t think I fancy knocking on doors and asking though.”

“Perhaps not,” agreed Jeremy. “I miss google maps.”

“Maybe we could watch the sky?” suggested Richard. “See which way the smaller aircraft are going.”

Jeremy glanced up at the sky, not convinced they were going to see anything, but it was something to do. “Through here then,” he suggested, moving through a gate and into a field, certain that his back was going to complain massively if he spent even five minutes looking straight up without lying down.

Richard shrugged, and quickly climbed over the fence, making it look easy. Jeremy, followed him, slightly less elegantly, then – after checking for cows that might trample on them, or cow pats – found a reasonably smooth patch of grass and lay down.

“Come on then, Hamster, you should be in your element here!”

“Eh? What are you on about?” Richard stared at him, quizzically.

“Hamsters, fields…” Jeremy laughed at Richard’s bafflement.

**

Jeremy couldn’t see any small planes. He could see a few stars, which was nice, and he’d seen a few commercial airliners headed for London, but nothing local at all. Still, he hadn’t been bored watching James be pedantic. Surprisingly, considering the wait, Richard had been remarkably quiet too, just lying in the field, watching for planes that didn’t seem to be there. Still, as relaxing as this was, they should really get back to James and get going, before the police had time to search this place.

“Richard?”

No response. Jeremy leaned up on an elbow, turning to study his companion in the darkness. His answer coming in the form of a soft snore.

Ah.

“Hamster,” he called, reaching out to shake his shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

“Stop! Don’t!” yelled Richard, before abruptly opening his eyes and sitting up, almost headbutting Jeremy in the process.

“Wow, Hamster, nothing like scaring a man to death.”

“You look fine,” said Richard, puzzled.

“I’m definitely dead,” replied Jeremy. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” said Richard.

“Really? It didn’t sound like the best dream,” prodded Jeremy.

“No, that… I really need to get out of here now,” said Richard.

“Yeah,” said Jeremy, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder, then staggering to his feet, pulling Richard after him. “Let’s go get out of here.”

“Promise?” asked Richard, almost under his breath.

“Of course,” replied Jeremy, grinning confidently. “And I’m always right.”

**

In this case, Jeremy was right.

James had finished his pre-flight checks, done some soldering, corrected their targeting system and was sat in the driver’s seat, waiting. He’d even had time to get slightly impatient.

“Out,” cried Jeremy, opening the driver’s door and waving James away. “This is my baby.”

“Plus he’s a faster escape driver,” added Richard.

“Faster is not always better, but you may have a point,” admitted James.

“I do have a point,” confirmed Richard, “remember when you died on the Albanian Mafia trip.”

“Oh yeah,” grinned James, gesturing to Richard to go ahead of him and walking round to the other side of the car to go and squeeze themselves in.

Finally, they were ready to go. Jeremy turned the key, and gripped the steering wheel, pausing to wipe his hands on his trousers before he put his foot down and headed back to the motorway.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said, seriously, looking around for any sign of someone about to pounce. “I’m going to head back up the A roads, I won’t join the motorway until we’re the other side of where the police saw us.”

“Good plan,” said Richard, swallowing. “Let’s get this over with.”

There was no more hesitation. Jeremy, turned onto the main road and headed east, navigating the minimal traffic easily and smoothly, only drawing any attention at all because of the car itself. There was no sign of anyone looking for them, nothing to worry them at all, until they reached the slip road onto the motorway. Then, at the entrance, they saw their first cop car.

“Jez,” whispered Richard.

“I see them,” he replied. “I’m going to gun it, ready?”

“Yeah.”

“No, but do it,” added James, gripping the door handle tightly.

Jeremy floored it. He ignored the traffic lights, blasted past the cops and down the slip road, joining the motorway before the police could even get their sirens going, and immediately making his way to the outside lane, already hitting 75mph.

Then the police started to appear behind them, at least two sets of flashing lights, and others on the other side of the motorway, clearly coming to join them.

“How far to the next junction?” asked James.

“Far enough,” said Jeremy, praying that everything was now working.

81.

“I can’t look,” cried Richard, grabbing hold of the dashboard.

“85!” yelled Jeremy, “nearly there.”

86.

87.

88.


	8. June 1981

June 1981.

Everything had pulled out of the way, only police cars trailed them as the car lit up inside and disappeared from the motorway.

Time Unknown.

Behind them, the sirens disappeared, and – not wishing to start a new chase – Jeremy began to slow down. The motorway seemed completely quiet.

“Well something happened,” said Richard, rummaging in his pocket for his phone. “I might need to plug this in for a minute or two though.”

“Here,” Jeremy handed him a cable, apparently from nowhere and revealed a USB slot.

“OK,” Richard plugged in and for several minutes sat staring at his phone, waiting for it to have enough power to even attempt to connect.

April 2020.

“I have a signal!” yelled Richard, loud enough to make James jump. “It says, 3rd April 2020!”

“It’s close,” said Jeremy, nodding. “Shouldn’t be too bad.”

“We still need to get back to the right time,” pointed out James. “We’ll already be here.”

“Unless we never went back,” said Richard.

“Why would…?” began Jeremy. “No, we can’t do that. We should definitely fix the targeting before we try again though or we could end up in flares.”

“I thought for a minute you were suggesting we’d end up as a component of one of those flares ships send up rather than dodgy trousers,” laughed James. “Oaf.”

“So where are we off to?” asked Jeremy. “If we’re staying, then we’re going to have to work out if any of our counterparts has left an empty flat.”

“How close to Easter are we? Any idea?” asked Richard.

“Because..?” James raised an eyebrow, quizzically.

“Well I’ll be at home with the kids if it’s Easter holidays, unless we’re away on a trip, anyway.”

Jeremy nodded. “Sounds reasonable, let’s try your flat. London, here we come.”

“Guys,” said James. “Have you noticed how quiet it is here?”

“It’s late,” Richard paused, remembering the time travel. “Oh, wait, it’s 6am, I think I’ve got time travel lag.”

“It is very quiet, approaching London at the start of rush hour,” agreed James. “Very strange.”

“There’s no one here at all!” exclaimed Richard, he lowered his voice. “Do you think there’s been an apocalypse? Attack of zombies?”

“Ooh, maybe,” said James. “We are in the future, we don’t know what might have happened. Boris Johnson could have been elected Prime Minister!”

“James! Don’t be ridiculous,” barked Jeremy, laughing.

“OK then,” agreed James. “It’s an evacuation because global warming has led to floods.”

They kept going, more and more anxious as they neared the end of the M4. The lanes here, at 7am, should have been packed with vehicles. All queuing traffic and annoyed commuters.

Instead, there was no one.

“Black death,” suggested Jeremy.

“Infestation of attack bees,” said Richard.

“Invasion of the French,” grinned Jeremy.

“Death rays from aliens,” added James, who quite enjoyed a bit of sci fi.

Finally, a car appeared ahead of them.

“Yes! Someone’s alive!” yelled Richard.

“It’s the rozzers,” pointed out James.

“They’re the only people left?”

“Apparently.”

“They’re not chasing us now,” pointed out Jeremy. “Not unless they’ve got really long memories.”

“I think we’re…” began James, pausing as the sirens on the car lit up.

“Jez, run, they’ve got really long memories!” cried Richard.

“Don’t be ridiculous, man. Maybe we’ve got a tail light out or something,” said James.

Jeremy pulled over to the hard shoulder, waiting for the policeman to come over to the window, his fingers crossed beneath the steering wheel.

“Morning,” he greeted the man as he reached the car.

“Morning, lads,” replied the officer, friendly enough. “Have we been struggling with the lockdown?”

“We, ahh…” Jeremy, unusually, was at a loss for words. “We’re very sorry. We thought if we stayed in the car?”

“Ahh,” nodded the policeman. “I can see your thinking, but we would prefer you stayed safely in your home.” He paused, then added,” As instructed by the government,” with his eyebrows raised dramatically.

“Sorry,” said Jeremy, pulling his not very convincing apologetic face.

“Sorry,” added James and Richard.

“If you’ll be heading directly home now,” he suggested, very clearly, looking round the three of them. “Your own home.”

“Got it,” nodded Jeremy, winding the window up as the policeman walked away down the hard shoulder of the deserted motorway.

“Mine then?” said Richard. “Doesn’t sound like I’ll be there.”

Jeremy and James nodded, and Jeremy put his foot down. Very carefully, so that the nice policeman didn’t have reason to be really cross.

**

It was strange going into Richard’s flat. It didn’t even take two seconds to decide that no one was there, and that no one had been there in some time. The flat was cold and dark, and well, it just had that kind of feel to it.

“I’ll be with my family,” whispered Richard.

“So why are you whispering then?” asked James.

“I feel like I’m breaking in! Good job the keys still work.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine this would be a good moment to walk in on a total stranger,” laughed Jeremy. Then he paused. “The keys aren’t proof. If you sold this, you’d still hand over the keys, they wouldn’t necessarily get replaced.”

Richard swallowed heavily. “We’d better check more carefully.” He crept further into the flat, Jeremy following him, checking for any sign of strangers in the house. James, shaking his head at them, bent down to pick up the post.

“All clear?” whispered Richard, turning to Jeremy behind him, and gesturing to the door to the right, grabbing the door on his left as he did so.

Jeremy nodded, sticking his thumb up, then grabbed the handle of the door Richard was pointing to.

“Ready,” he hissed back.

Richard did a count down with his fingers, and simultaneously, they each opened their doors.

Nothing. A decent number of the possessions were familiar to Richard, and there was no sign of anyone else in the house. He heaved a sigh of relief. “I think it’s fine, Jez.”

“That’s a relief,” panted Jeremy. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

“You old man,” laughed Richard.

“Have you two pillocks finished pretending that you’re MI5 now?” called James, walking in behind them and waving a small stack of envelopes.

“What’s that?” asked Richard.

“Your post?” said James, waiting for the penny to drop.

“And it’s all mine?”

“It is,” grinned James. “Well, aside from that mysterious circular you always get addressed to the previous owner.”

“Oh yeah, still getting that then!”

“Numpties,” laughed James.

“I feel very manly,” said Jeremy. “I would have defeated the intruder and saved the day.”

“You mean the person rightfully in their own home, whilst wheezing your way through the door, mate?” suggested Richard.

“Yeah, that too,” admitted Jeremy. “So, it’s first thing in the morning, we’ve been told we have to go home and stay there, and we don’t know what’s going on. I suggest research.”

“That could be problematic,” said James.

“Why?” asked Richard.

“Well, this is your flat. Is your television even capable of tuning in to the news?”

“Ha ha. I’ve seen the news. Occasionally.”

“Come on then, show us,” laughed James, nudging Richard towards the sofa and the TV.

**

Two hours later James and Jeremy sat on the sofa, completely riveted to the news, fascinated by what was going on – despite James’ earlier warnings that they shouldn’t learn too much about the future. Richard, on the other hand, was now slumped against the back of the sofa, snoring softly.

“We’re going to have to get some supplies,” said James, turning to Jeremy and muting the TV for a moment. “And I need to fix that targeting system or we’re going to be bouncing around time indefinitely, no doubt getting into trouble like this.”

Jeremy nodded. “I’ll get food, you go out to the car and collect what you need. Do you need tools, or has Hamster got them covered?”

“Hopefully Hamster’s got enough, I don’t really want to risk going to my place,” replied James.

“OK, you grab the stuff out of the car then, I’ll go to the shop – and try to obey the rules!” directed Jeremy, hauling himself off the sofa with a groan.

James switched the TV off with the remote, then joined him, looking back for a moment at the still sleeping Richard.

“You got a pen?” asked Jeremy. “We could draw a moustache?”

James snorted. “I was thinking more of a note! Not sure what he’ll do if he wakes up while we’re gone.”

“You think we need to set up a camera?”

“Oaf,” grinned James. “Have you got one?”

**

Richard stirred, his brain feeling fuzzy and tired, despite the nap, and his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness in the room. His room, he was home. Well, in his flat, sleeping on the sofa – he was more or less home. Despite the fuzziness, he could tell he wasn’t hungover, so sleeping on the sofa seemed like an odd choice.

Then the past few days caught up with him. He wasn’t home at all. Where were the others? Possibly Jeremy had decided his back needed the bed, but… Somehow that didn’t ring true, he remembered arriving here, and finding the remote to switch on the TV, but not much after that.

Slowly, Richard scrambled to his feet, shivering in the still cold apartment, and headed for the kitchen. He reached for the kettle, still half asleep, hoping the coffee would get the neurons firing a bit faster, then as the kettle boiled he wandered down the hallway to take a peek into the bedroom and see if it was inhabited.

Total silence. Very strange. The bed was made, and actually very slightly dusty. Where were they? Surely they hadn’t gone home? It wasn’t home.

Baffled, Richard wandered back into the kitchen, hoping to apply coffee to the problem. As he did so, the front door opened to reveal James.

“Ah, you’re awake!” he commented. “Sorry, did we freak you out leaving.” James smirked slightly, giving himself away.

“No,” replied Richard quickly, confident that James wasn’t even slightly sorry. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re clutching the coffee like it’s a lifeline.”

“Time travel lag,” insisted Richard. “I’m tired.”

“Would you like to know where I’ve been?”

Richard nodded. “Yeah, where were you?”

“Fetching bits and pieces so that we can fix the targeting system, so that we don’t end up constantly going in ever decreasing circles around March 2015 trying to prevent the orang-utan from interfering with his younger self again.”

Richard raised his eyebrows, “Interfering? Something you remember that you’re not telling me, James?”

James rolled his eyes, then chose to ignore him. “However, this is all electronics,” he added. “So I could do with the instructions.”

“Which, of course, weren’t in the car?” asked Richard.

“That would be much too easy,” said James.

“Jez should know where they are, right?”

James shrugged. “He’s an old man, who knows what his memory’s like.”

“James,” said Richard, unusually quietly. “I’m starting to remember what it was like in 1981.”

“I’d hope you remember pretty well, it was only yesterday.”

“No, I mean the new old memory,” said Richard. “The bit that didn’t happen when I was originally 11.”

“But that should be like an old memory,” replied James. “You barely even remembered being 11!”

“I think being kidnapped stands out a bit, mate,” pointed out Richard. “It’s a much stronger memory, he was.. I was really scared.”

“You did a good job of hiding it then,” commented James. “You looked like you’d got them wrapped round your tiny little finger.”

“That was later,” shrugged Richard, “I was really scared at first.” He blushed, certain that admitting to being scared, aged 11, by a giant stranger was entirely unacceptable, even to one of his best mates. Especially to one of his best mates.

James grinned. “At least it didn’t put you off joining Top Gear,” he pointed out. “It could have done.”

Richard rubbed his hand through his hair. “I guess I didn’t realise it was him, the memory’s a bit off. He looks ridiculously big, like the BFG or Chewbacca or something.”

James laughed. “He’d like that!”

As Richard finally smiled, and buried the memory again for now, the front door opened, and the subject of their conversation emerged.

“I’m here!” called Jeremy. “I have food!”

The mood broken, James and Richard headed to the door to help him, distracted momentarily by the prospect of beer and actual food.

“Jez,” said James, as they were putting his purchases away in the kitchen. “Where are the instructions for the time machine?”

“You don’t need the instructions, it’s already built!” protested Jeremy.

“Jez,” said James, his eyebrows raised disapprovingly.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

James sighed. “Well we were in your garage when we built it, so that’s a good start.”

“Obviously, they must be in the garage.”

“But we’re expecting future you to be there now?” asked James.

“Well, yes. I live there.” Jeremy paused. “Unless I don’t! I don’t know if I still live there.”


	9. April 2020

April 2020.

“What’s the plan, again?” whispered Jeremy, peering out into the darkness at what should have been his house, but clearly wasn’t.

“Umm, sneak into the garage and hope you kept the plans?” suggested Richard.

“Very quietly,” added James.

“I can be quiet.” Jeremy looked round at the two sceptical faces of his friends. “What? I can!”

“I remember that teenage car test,” said Richard.

“That was to be funny!” protested Jeremy.

James said nothing, instead climbing out of the car and, once Richard was out too, silently closing the door.

“I’ll take the back,” suggested Richard. “You stay with the oaf,” he nodded to James, then disappeared into the darkness.

“Stealthy,” whispered Jeremy loudly. “Those little hamster feet are perfect for it.”

“You are aware that orang-utans can be quiet too?”

“I can be quiet.”

  


**

  


Richard tiptoed behind the garage, hoping the find an unlocked door or a key under the mat. Jeremy wasn’t exactly known for his care and attention to detail. Finding a back door to the garage with a key under a handy plant pot – with a mostly dead bush sitting in it – and turning the key in the lock, he opened the garage door, stifling a laugh when he noticed old Jeremy had a convertible Lamborghini.

Then somebody grabbed him from behind.

  


**

  


“I don’t suppose any of your existing keys work on this?” asked James, gesturing to the garage door.

“I’m not brilliant at recycling,” muttered Jeremy, reaching for his keys nonetheless.

“Pity,” said James, reaching into his backpack and rummaging round, before revealing a flat, key-like object.

“Have you been practicing burglarising, James?” whispered Jeremy.

“This will be a first, but I’ve been researching the technique.”

  


**

  


“Hamster?” The hand that had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck turned him round easily.

“Jez!” Richard squeaked, his heart racing as his memory flashed moments from the last time Jeremy grabbed him like that through his head.

“You nearly gave me a heart-attack! Why are you sneaking round here? Is lockdown getting to you? Where’s the beard?”

“You nearly had a heart attack?” Richard leant his hand against the wall, taking deliberate, deep breaths as he tried to bury his panic.

“Well you were sneaking round here,” pointed out Jeremy.

“Yeah, well you try having someone grab you when you’ve been having unbelievably vivid memories about some giant grabbing you, and see how calm you stay!” exclaimed Richard.

“You? What?”

“Never mind,” said Richard, crossly. “It’s nothing. Do you know where the plans for the time travel car are?”

A flash of realisation crossed Jeremy’s face. “You’re from 2015,” he said. “That’s why you’re so jumpy!”

Richard glared at him.

“I remember what happened in 1981,” said Jeremy calmly. “And when you remembered.”

Richard shuddered slightly, stepping away from Jeremy, but not resisting when the larger man grabbed his arm.

“I am sorry, Richard,” said Jeremy. “I remember how scared you were.” He held his arms out, and slowly Richard conceded, accepting a huge hug.

Gradually, Richard relaxed in Jeremy’s arms, leaning his head against the taller man’s chest and taking several more deep breaths and he felt Jeremy squeezing him tight.

“Better?” asked Jeremy.

Richard rubbed at his eyes as he moved away. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Good. So what were you looking for? Oh yeah, the manual. I take it that was James’ plan then?”

“Might be,” grinned Richard, almost looking like himself.

Jeremy chuckled. “Well, I should let them have a bit of fun with the garage, I’m pretty sure it’s in the house.” He turned towards the house. “Come on, Hamster, I haven’t had chance to annoy James for weeks.”

Richard perked up, weeks? Had it worked?

  


**

  


“This is impossible,” grumbled James. “Why do the web pages I read seem to think this is trivial? This is designed to be trivial for the double jointed centipede who’s been practicing his whole life.”

“Or the person who owns the key, James?” suggested Jeremy.

“Or that,” grunted James.

“Forget that!” butted in Richard, making both of them jump. “I’ve found it.”

“Already?” said Jeremy. “I don’t think I could have found it that fast if my garage had still been there!”

“I’m just that good,” grinned Richard.

“At burgularising?”

“Something like that. Come on, let’s go, before we manage to get into trouble.”

  


**

  


“I’m bored!” Jeremy sagged down onto the sofa. “Slow’s just reading manuals and being pedantic, it’s no fun. And he shouts at me for helping.”

“Jez, I don’t think what you were doing could legitimately be called helping,” laughed Richard.

“But I’m bored!”

“Don’t worry about it Jez, look what I’ve found.” Richard opened up his laptop, and turned it so that Jeremy could see the image on the main page.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. “That’s us!”

“It is us,” grinned Richard. “It’s not Top Gear, but it’s still us. Bigger and madder than ever.”

“They seem to have chopped your head off in this one,” laughed Jeremy.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not tall enough, I know.”

“We race boats? Why would we do that? I thought you hated the water!”

Richard grimaced. “I’m not thinking about it. I can only think that in the future you have some sort of blackmail material on me.”

Jeremy giggled. “Sorry, Hamster.”

“You are not, don’t even pretend!” replied Richard, but he was laughing too.

“What are you layabouts giggling about?” called James. “Come here, I’ve fixed it!”

Amicably, they both walked to the kitchen table, staring at the disassembled components spread over the entire surface.

“It doesn’t look that fixed,” remarked Jeremy.

“How do you know it’s fixed?” asked Richard.

“Because,” James paused, obviously waiting for dramatic effect. “I found the mistake.”

“Where?” asked Jeremy, before quickly adding. “No, I don’t want to know. Does that mean we’re ready to go home?”

James considered for a moment. “Yes, pretty much, though it might be worth finishing the food. I’m not sure future Hamster is going to be all that pleased with a fridge full of mould when he comes back.”

“Hmm, yes, quite cross,” nodded Jeremy.

“Ha ha,” said Richard. “Yes, we should eat first, then I can be sick in your car from your driving.”

“Don’t you dare!” spluttered Jeremy.

Richard just grinned cheekily at him.

They did stop to eat though, Jeremy cooking them all pasta, and then as night fell and they thought the odds of running into their friendly policeman again were lower, they headed for the motorway, so hopeful that Richard didn’t even bother complaining about being crushed in the seat, though James admitted to regretting eating so much.

Jeremy lined the car up on the motorway as they managed to get to a straight stretch, still clear of interference, and he went for it.

This time, there were no police cars, no other passersby, nothing, just them and Jeremy’s lovely car shooting down the motorway.

“80,” called Jeremy.

85.

86.

87.

88.


	10. March 2015

March 2015.

“Yes!” yelled Richard, brandishing his phone at Jeremy, though realistically, he had his hands full dodging the morning traffic as he slowed down from not-suitable-for-the-M4-near-London speeds. “We’re home.”

“Oh thank God,” sighed James. “If I had to get into this seat one more time, I was going to have to actually stuff this idiot into the boot. Check your messages, Hamster, does everything look normal?”

Richard scrolled through his messages. “Yeah, messages from Jez, messages from you, Andy… all seems fine – same doom and gloom as before we left, mind, but normal.”

“In that case, chaps,” said Jeremy, “I think all that remains is to get out of this ridiculous traffic and get back to my place for a celebratory beer.”

“What?” said James. “Not that I’m volunteering to go for another joyride in this thing, but nothing’s fixed, why are we celebrating?”

“Ah,” said Richard. “Nothing’s fixed, but James – everything’s going to be fine.”

**

June 2020.

“Hamster! Slow!” Jeremy approached his friends after what he thought might have been the longest time he’d not seen them since the start of Top Gear, his arms open wide for a hug.

James, cautious as ever, dodged him, going for a pat on the shoulder instead, but Richard found himself swamped by Jeremy’s arms.

“I’m still sorry, Richard,” whispered Jeremy, to his completely baffled friend.


End file.
